


Alright

by robotmonarchy



Category: Futurama
Genre: 1920s AU, Bartender!Fry, Fluff, Frendermonth2017, Human!Bender, Its cheesy I'm sorry, M/M, Mobster!Bender, Other, i love intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 05:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotmonarchy/pseuds/robotmonarchy
Summary: Fry and Bender remember how they first met.





	Alright

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Frender Month 2017! This week's theme was AU and I chose "Another World" as the prompt. I went with my 1920s AU because that needed to exist, alright? I didn't do research or have anyone beta this, so I apologize in advance, I GUESS.

It was raining. Sure, there was the sounds of water hitting harsh pavement to give that away, but Fry always knew for sure when he saw his ceiling leaking. They lived in a shoddy as hell apartment. Their walls were peeling a sickly yellow’s paint. He was pretty sure there was busted plumbing somewhere, which was a good excuse to not wash any dishes this week. And their poor floorboards. Unsalvageable, creaky, and loud under their rusty iron framed bed.

Cozy under the covers, Fry was content to watch the ceiling water drip into the bucket they placed as a temporary-but-definitely-permanent solution.  
  
“Do you remember when we first met?” Bender broke the silence. He was awake now, half naked as a pleasant reminder of their previous activities. He sat up and stretched his sleep away.

Fry brought his hand to his chin. “Mm, yeah.” Fry smirked. “You called me a goof.”

Bender smirked back. “You are a goof, goof.”

Fry leaned towards Bender’s ear and whispered. “Goofy for you.”

Bender laughed and knocked Fry’s shoulder. “Sap.”

He reached for one of his cigars, long since stored specifically in the first drawer of nightstand. Officially, Fry lived alone, but anyone would be able to tell that this was a shared space, between the discarded long coats and the two toothbrushes that had one with its bristles warped and ragged.

“If I’m a sap, you’re the whole tree.” Fry teased.

“Oh yeah?” Bender pointed his lit cigar at him.

“Yeah!” Fry answered, defiant. He was prepared with at least three examples that was sure to embarrass Bender.

After a beat of playfully glaring at each other, Bender sighed, and relaxed into his spot of the bed. “Yeah, well, that’s your fault.” He smiled.

He didn’t expect Bender to respond with that. He must be in a certain mood. He observed Bender, puffing away his cigar, with a contemplative look on his face. What was he thinking about?

The window in their bedroom didn’t have a curtain, allowing the moonlight to shine through. It enveloped the whole room, but on Bender it made his skin look almost blue and beautiful.

“What are you staring at?” He asked with no bite in his tone, more wistful as he looked back at Fry expectantly.

Fry shrugged and wrapped his arm around Bender. When he rested his head on his shoulder Fry answered, “You changed my world in just one day.”  

* * *

Bender was...miserable.

It was why he was in his line of business, first as a fuck you to the feds for thinking they could ban the one thing that kept Bender running, and second, because he usually had fun being a mean scary mobster. He liked his bat, he liked his coat, he even liked his hat. He especially liked that he could die any day now, if he his excessive drinking didn’t kill him first. In the end, he liked everything about his job. And he was good at it. It just didn’t make him less miserable with his life. But Bender was always the miserable sort. It came with the territory of being a brown Mexican street urchin. Yeah, he had the life _now_ but no guy would want to know what it took to get there.

“Too much thinking, not enough booze.” He was known to say.  

He needed a distraction.

That’s why he went to their little illegal operation. The speakeasy wasn’t the most glamorous, but it had booze, and it had booze _now_. The fact that they owned the joint was enough to put make a few cops think twice before raiding it, and on top of that, it was well hidden. It was a laundromat by day, but by night, it was the talk of the borough, the bar that had “It.” Bender noticed that half the locals in their part of New York liked that it had a more carefree atmosphere than most. The other half was scared shitless because of the mobsters that closely guarded it. Well, “guarded” is used loosely. Guys like Bender who worked for mob doing menial criminal work just came around to mess with girls and get zozzed. 

Which is _exactly_ what Bender was hoping to do tonight. 

_“Hey Rodriguez, over here!”_

It took Bender an inhuman amount of willpower to not roll his eyes when he entered the place.

He put on his best smile just for the boss. He approached them with his hands resting in his coat pockets. “Boss. Fellas.” greeted Bender, through gritted teeth.

“Great work today there, Bender.” Don began.

Don motioned him to sit.

“Great work is what I do, Jefe.” When Bender felt nostalgic, he called his boss by that old name, a call back to a time when Spanglish was the best English he knew. 

Don smiles behind his drink. Yeah, he remembers when he first found Bender. He was a waiter at Elzar’s fancy restaurant. Being young and cocky, the boy thought he could get away with scamming a mob boss by pretending he never got a twenty-dollar tip. Don’t ask him how, but in that moment, he saw something in Rodriguez, something that would make him useful, an asset. And he was right. And anyone with eyes could tell that Don was proud of him.  From rags to down right riches, is what he thinks of Bender.  All the kid needed must do is keep his head on straight, and Don knew he’d have a future with them.

“The way you extorted that business owner, that took _real_ guts! Literally!” said Joey, Don’s right-hand man.

“Yeah yeah, he’s a real tough guy. Big deal.” said Clamps, Don’s left-hand man.

“Quiet, Clamps.” Don chided. The lanky gentlemen piped down and stared into his shot glass occasionally signaling Bender a furtive look.  
  
_“Sorry-ass Mexican.”_ The fellow mobster muttered. Bender shot Clamps a piercing glare. Clamp pretended there was something interesting in his shot glass.

Don chose to not notice the small exchange. Rivalry encouraged better work, after all. “You did do good there, kid. But next time, take it easy with the property damage. We want them to stay in business. For future extorting, of course.”

“Of course.” Bender nodded, bemused. Don was the one who taught him that was the way they operated, but whatever Don wanted, he got.

“Got any plans today, Bender?” Joey asked politely. He always got along with Bender more than Clamps did. Perhaps it was because they were both poor kids in rich guy suits, and Clamps, well no one knows where Clamps came from. All anyone knows is that he has a preference when it came to the tools he used for interrogation.  

Looking for an answer to Joey’s question, he scanned the room as he usually does. Everything looked the same: the women, the music, the seedy atmosphere. Nothing was new.

Except for the bartender.

Bender rose from his seat, his sight clearly preoccupied. “My plan is to see a man about a dog.” He nodded at Don and Don nodded back, excusing him.

Fry’s first day behind the counter wasn’t too bad. Sure, there were a few eager customers who weren’t content with his expert bartending work, but for the most part, he had this in the bag. Or the glass. The glass he was trying to wipe the stain out with an old-used cloth. It was a stubborn, wasn’t it? Maybe he should throw it away, and no one will notice that the bartender can’t clean shot glasses.

He was _so_ glad he landed this job. Rent was coming up shorter and shorter these days ever since he was fired from his last job.

_“Stupid fingers. Stupid clumsy hands and their inability to put out fires.”_

The fact is, Fry knew nothing about bartending. He just said he did. It can’t be too hard right? You throw one illegal substance in with another, and people start dancing with the coat hanger.  He didn’t know _how_ he got the job as a bartender however, he asked the right person for quarters at this weird wet-wash he guessed.

“Well you’re new.”

The new voice jostled Fry out of his monotonous cleaning. The source of the voice was right behind him, leaned on the counter with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

He just kept…staring at him. “What’ll be...Sir.” Fry asked politely. He was completely distracting and Fry didn’t know why. It might have been the guy’s well-defined cheekbones. Or his calloused hands, his thumbs circling each other on the counter. Maybe it was the way his coat accentuated his bulky build. And who could forget the baritone in this stranger’s voice, or the -

“Brown plaid.” He interrupted, startling Fry into fumbling his way to the Scotch and shot glasses.

He studied the bartender, every glance more appreciative than the last. The boyish face, the red hair, those sweet hazel eyes. Even the faded scar on his lip. There was something about this guy that reeled him in faster than any heist. Maybe he’d been looking too long, because the bartender gave him a shy smile on his rapidly rosy face. God. Bender wanted to ruin him.

“What do I call you, sweetheart?” Bender asked as his drink was handed to him.

Fry felt warmth pool in his cheeks.

He had no idea what was happening.

“Philip Fry. Most just call me Fry though.” he managed to answer.

“Name’s Ben, but most call _me_ Bender.” He responded haughtily.

“Why’s that?”

In Bender’s mind, there’s an echo of cracked bones and swings of bloody bats. He laughs humorlessly. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Oh.” Fry answered quietly. He was still distracted by Bender’s whole...everything.

Bender gestured at Fry’s lips. “Say, what got you that mark? Knife fight? Robbery gone wrong?”

“Oh this?” Fry lifted his hand to feel his scar, smiling at the memory.

“I got this from falling off an old tree when I was a kid.”

His glass was slammed on the counter. “What? Seriously?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh yeah. This took twenty stitches. Pretty neat, eh?” Fry’s smile became even wider.

He looked at him for moment. No twitch of the lips. No dry come back. That means...

_Oh._

“You’re serious!” He grinned, wide and toothy.

When the bartender nodded eagerly, Bender barked a hearty, long laugh. What’s a guy like him working at a place like this?!

Wiping a tear from his eye, he asked, “You’re a bit of a goof, aren’t you?”

Fry shrugged. “Most folks tend to think so.” He grimaced and circled the opening of the empty scotch glass with his finger.

Bender’s heart ached, just for a moment. Seeing the guy sad awoke something in him, and he looked around to make sure no one was looking. He placed his palm on top of Fry’s.

“Don’t worry, I think I like it.” He whispered.

“Oh.” That was all Fry could muster, he felt frozen under the trap of Bender’s intense gaze.

“Hey, listen.” Bender leaned over the counter where Fry could feel his breath next to his ear. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at the sensation. He stilled, almost from the expectation that this whole interaction has been some cruel joke.

“You should go on break and meet me in the back.” Bender leaned back and stood up from his seat. He tipped the brim of his hat and gave Fry another half-lidded stare. “See you soon.”

Before Fry could say one more word, he walked away, disappearing into the excited crowd of people enjoying themselves between drinks and dancing.

Fry took his break.

Behind the speakeasy was a discrete alley way, where no one wandered except stray cats and garbage men needing to empty dumpsters. Most who took breaks at the place went to mingle in the party, even if just for a few moments. But not Fry.

As soon as he stepped out the door Fry was slammed against the wall. He flinched, ready to take whatever punch was coming. He knew this was some twisted joke.

“Relax, its me.” Bender laughed. He didn’t think the guy would look so cute scared.

“Bender!” Fry exclaimed, wide eyed. “I thought you were gonna beat the crap out of me.”

“What? Oh no, I have other plans.” He lifted his hand to caress Fry’s cheek.

He gulped. “Y-you know I don’t usually do this.”

Bender paused. “Kiss strangers?”

Fry looked down at his feet, his face reddening all the way to his ears. “Kiss guys.”

“Ohhh.” Bender took a step back, and rubbed his chin with his hand. Suddenly feeling a little embarrassed for coming off so strong on the guy.

He took off his hat to run his hand through his short hair. He didn’t know what to do in this situation.  
“I guess…I’ll see you around then.” Run away. Why did he think he would do anything else?

Then he felt a firm grip on his hand, pulling him closer. Fry looked at him directly, suddenly making Bender aware of how much taller Fry was. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

It was chaste on first. Bender would later say he was going easy on him. He won’t say he was intimidated by the way he had to stand on his toes just to reach Fry’s face. When Fry’s lips met Bender’s, he’ll still call it electric. Not the static-y kind either.

_“I always feel a spark, is all.”_

Fry never felt so focused on one sensation before. He didn’t hear the party, its faint sounds echoing from the building. He sure as hell didn’t see anything, it was way too dark, and his eyes were closed. He was overwhelmed but for the first time in a good way. It was just feeling, his breath, his chapped lips brushing against his own, the way Bender caressed the back of Fry’s neck ⎯ Fry drowned in it like he was drowning in him.

When they finally disconnected, Fry felt like his skin was on fire. He felt warm and giddy against the gritty brick wall.

Bender was the first to catch his breath. “I think I’m already stuck on you.”

Fry’s eyes snapped open, searching for a joke in Bender’s face. “R-really?”

“Yeah you heard me,” he grinned.

Fry huffed a laugh, incredulous, “I think I get why you’re called Bender.”

“Why’s that?” He asked before reaching to nibble on Fry’s ear.

Fry let out a small gasp. “You got me all bent out of shape!”

Bender laughed in the crook his neck. His laugh tickled Fry’s skin.

“Fry, I think you and I are gonna be alright.”

* * *

“And we are.” Fry said quietly. Bender was already dozing in their comfortable position.

“Are what?” he murmured.

“Alright!”

“Yeah well, I said we would be, didn’t I?”

Fry rolled his eyes. “You didn’t know what you were talking about then.”

“Didn’t need too.” Even half asleep, he knew how to be arrogant. “Ol’ Bender is always right.”

Fry yawned, realizing that he’s been going down on memory lane long enough.  

Before he let sleep take him, settled in his spot next to his lover’s body, he had one more nagging question, “Bender...”

“Yeah?”

“You think we're gonna be alright a little longer?"

Bender mulled over Fry's question. He clasped their hands together, firm.

"Yeah, you can count on it." he promised. 


End file.
